You can blame one of my english classes for this one. Its about a year and a half old. Cheesy, but I like it. If convinced, I might add more to it.
All the characters are mine. ITs not based on any movie or show.
I think of that moment quite often, when I first saw him at the front of his crew. He seemed like little more than a shadow with his skin tanned a rich brown and his deep black hair hanging in ruffled waves to his shoulders seemed to disappear against his black clothing. The cane he sported seemed to be only for decoration, and only added to his sauntering image. He was powerful, as wild as the sea, and he was free, unbound by any laws I knew. People tend to try to stay away from men like these, but I was sucked in the more I saw him.
I was ordinary, painfully ordinary compared to him, with my dull brown hair, and pale skin. I had changed out of my scrubs and into jeans and a plain black tee by that time, and the two drinks I had bought had yet to kick in.
He sat next to me and it wasn't long before we began to talk. He told me of wild battles against other people, and even the ocean and nature itself. What kind of people wage war against the sea? Before I knew it, I was asking questions and begging to know more, and he did not disappoint. Tales one only hears in their childhood came forth, enchanting me.
At the end of the night, long after the bar had quieted, he led me outside and down the docks until we got to a large, elaborate ship just as dark as its captain. I could see yet more men scrambling about on and in the ship like an ant hive at the peak of activity.
He grew up on the sea, in a pirate ship, he told me. I tried to get him to tell me more about himself, his past, but he effectively sidestepped my every attempt. Then he was walking up to the deck of his ship, our goodbyes already said. I watched him for a minute before turning and heading home. My dreams, that night, were full of pirates and swordfights and all sorts of childhood adventures. Over the next few days, all I could think about was that pirate, and the stories he had told me. I wanted to see him again, to get to know him. So I returned to the strip club, looking for him. I returned every night and after two weeks of nothing, I began to worry. What if he was sick? What if he got caught in a storm? What if he was injured? … What if he was dead?
The thoughts terrified me, even giving me nightmares more than once as doomsday scenarios played out in my mind. A month went by, and still I showed up at that club, my hopes dwindling now as certainty set in, my drink remaining untouched. Then the door opened and the scent of the ocean flooded in like a wave.
There he was, alive and well. His men once again dispersed around the room, ogling the half-naked girls of the strip club. The pirate once again sat beside me and ordered some rum. I couldn't take my eyes off him. His hair was longer, and even more straggly looking and he wore the same black attire, complete with cane.
"You're back," I stammered. "I-I thought-"
He grinned at me, "What? That I was dead?" He asked teasingly, as if it were the most ridiculous notion in the world. I instantly felt my face flush with embarrassment.
"Well... you said it was dangerous, and it's the ocean, and..."
"I'm a pirate, remember? The sea's a vast and unpredictable, wild thing. We travel by her rules, not yours." He admonished softly. "Aye, it's dangerous, but we live for the danger." He polished off his glass of rum. The bartender came over to refill it and settled a glance on me.
"Don't worry, son, these ruffians appear every month, 'round the same time."
I smiled at the bartender. The words were more comforting than he could possibly know. "Thanks."
That night, he told me of his newer adventures, these ones full of sea monsters and enemy pirates.
"It all seems so amazing! They can't possibly be true, though." I commented in between stories.
"Aye, it's quite an adventure." He agreed. "And as true as we are."
At that moment, another group of men entered, these ones rougher and crueler looking. Instantly, my pirate captain and all his men stiffened, their gazes locked on the newcomers. Tension raged off the captain in waves, stiffening my own joints and stealing my voice box. I saw his grip tighten on his cane, his eyes meeting the eyes of the newcomer's leader.
"Well, well, well," drawled the man I presumed to be the leader of the new group. "If it aint the great Leon and his band of misfits."
Was that his name? Leon? I looked at my companion. All around us, I heard the scrape of chairs as people stood and the furious growl of many voices.
Leon watched the newcomer with a cold look in his eyes. "Morty, long time no see." he replied icily.
The bartender made himself busy drying glasses, one eye on the men. You could almost cut the tension in the room. Not a single other person moved.
"I thought you rabble moved on," Leon commented, tapping one finger on his cane.
Morty smirked. "I've taken over this area. Your rot aint allowed here no more."
Leon laughed, a rich sound that filled the room. "Us? Arent allowed?" His laugh died away and his sharp gaze once again latched onto Morty. "You are years away from being able to stop me from doing anything, boy."
Morty glared at him, pulling a knife out from behind him. "Get out."
It was Leon's turn to smirk. He stood, spun his cane around once and settled it on the ground in front of him with a thump, both hands resting on the top. The pirates throughout the room pulled out an assortment of blades: daggers, scythes, cutlasses, and even a few swords.
Leon pulled the top of his cane out, revealing a hidden sword. He let the cane sheathe clatter to the ground. "No," he replied simply before advancing on Morty.
The two of them began a cat and mouse game of blades while the rest of the room descended into chaos. The two groups fell on each other like savage dogs. The regular customers began to panic or join in the fight while the club staff scattered behind doors and walls. I clung to the bar for only a moment. The bartender motioned me to him. I happily obliged. Together we remained behind the relative safety of the bar.
"Aren't you going to call the cops?" I yowled at him over the fighting.
"What, and cause an even bigger mess? No. They'd arrest my best customers." He replied easily, still drying glasses.
The fight was over nearly as fast as it had begun. The sudden silence made my ears ring. I quickly found Leon. He was standing over Morty with his sword at his throat. Upon further inspection, I found that most of the other pirates were in similar situations. The pirates were pinning or otherwise immobilizing Morty's men.
Leon gave Morty a deep cut on his cheek before letting him get up. "Now back to yer rats nest, and don't let me catch ya here again, savvy?"
Morty growled something unintelligible as he retreated, his men following.
Leon returned to where he'd been sitting and replaced his sword in his cane. He finished off his rum in one go then held his glass up in a salute. Behind him, his men cheered.
The bartender and I approached him. "Anyone in need of a doctor?" The bartender asked.
Leon glanced at his men, then shook his head. The bartender nodded, refilled his drink, and retreated. I took my seat beside him.
A think, gangly silence hung between us for a moment. "So… Leon, huh?" I said, eagerly trying the sound out. It was a wonderful name and seemed to fit him well. "I'm Daniel."
Leon smiled. "Tis a pleasure, Daniel."